


tiny little hands

by The_Daydreams_Of_Pernelle



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Transformation, Curses, Raccoonskier, yen is too scary for people to ask about her weird pet raccoon in a doublet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29235087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Daydreams_Of_Pernelle/pseuds/The_Daydreams_Of_Pernelle
Summary: Twenty minutes after Jaskier leaves Geralt on the mountain, he gets cursed. Of course.He goes to the one other person in the area he can think of for help and hopes he doesn't get shot through with lightning.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	tiny little hands

Jaskier got cursed coming down the mountain. Of course. 22 years following around a witcher who attracted insane sorceresses and Destiny's penchant for mischief like a lightning rod and not one curse had befallen him (unless one counted the time the djinn saw fit to nearly kill him, which Jaskier did not) and five minutes after he left the grumpy weirdness magnet for good he got cursed. Perhaps that's why he got cursed, perhaps Geralt really was like a lightning rod--kept you safe because all the magical shenanigans were drawn to him over the people around him. Regardless, Jaskier was cursed.

Some young boy had accosted him on his way pouting down the mountain, asking him to play a song for him and Jaskier had declined--perhaps slightly more sharply than necessary, but was asking a stranger so clearly in distress to play for one's own amusement perfectly polite either? Absolutely not. But the boy had just smiled at him, then stretched and stretched until he was about 8 feet tall, with skin thin and translucent, revealing shimmering purple just beneath the surface, and forest green eyes without a hint of white.

Jaskier didn't even get a good hearty "Fuck" in--perhaps his last "fuck" ever--before he was cursed, and all that came out was an odd, chittering squeak as he was suddenly alone and much, much smaller than he was used to being. His lute made a terrible twang as it fell to the ground next to him. When he propelled himself towards it in a motion that could only be described as "scurrying," he found himself getting tripped up on the great swaths of fabric of his doublet, still clinging around his neck. He wiggled his short, stubby arms out of the sleeves, and stared at his hands.

They were raccoon hands. He was a raccoon. He was cursed to be a raccoon.

He really wished he had gotten that "fuck" out fast enough.

His lute seemed to be unharmed, though who knew how he could keep it that way as a fucking raccoon. This was bad. At least he didn't seem to have the brain of a raccoon--though perhaps raccoons were secretly music-loving, lute-appreciative intelligent creatures and he had just never known. Alright, Jaskier, think with your probably human but possibly-raccoon brain. How do you fix this? You can't ask Geralt, he'd probably punt you off the mountain before his medallion could so much as quiver. You can't just go to a town, they'll shoo you away. How do you catch a mage open to lifting curses on the road in between towns how do you plan that when you can't fucking talk?

And then, Jaskier remembered. It was a bad idea, one that had probably the same chance, if not worse, of success and a certainly higher chance of bodily harm than trying to appeal to Geralt's patience with maybe-rabid wild animals, but was the only one he could think of. Perhaps his brain had gone slightly raccoon-y after all. That had to be the explanation for its smaller capacity for half-decent ideas. He'd have to act quickly though, it was more than likely she had already portalled far away from this godforsaken mountain. He certainly would have if he had her powers.

So dragged his lute by its strap to a hollow in some tree roots that seemed vaguely sheltering and scurried back the way he had come, first using his luckily still-dexterous little fingers to button the top button of his doublet around his neck like a cape on the off-chance it would help her recognize him.

The sun was falling by the time he reached the last place they had made camp, his short little legs not exactly a boon for making good time. It was largely deserted, with a bottle strewn here or there from the other parties. But there, off from where most had gathered around their firepits, now ash and discarded bones, was Yennefer's tent. Jaskier felt the smiling light of the gods upon him as he made his way to the tent flap and scratched at it, unwilling to risk whatever Yennefer thought fit to do to sudden intruders, and quite certain he would be stepped on if she was having another orgy.

He was scratching for a horribly long time, almost convinced that Yennefer was the sort of person to leave magically enchanted bigger-on-the-inside tents behind in the middle of the wilderness for anyone to stumble upon just because she could afford to, when he heard stumbling footsteps come towards him. He scrambled backwards as the extremely disheveled sorceress ripped open the flap with a bottle in one hand and a fireball in the other.

She blinked at him. He waved at her with his little useless raccoon hand. She squinted.

"Bard?"

Jaskier squeaked in joy, somewhat embarrassed that it was the only noise he was capable of making, but somewhat mollified by the fact he now knew that Yennefer could look anything less than perfectly composed, and ran up to her skirts, standing on two legs and waving his arms in the air.

"That's so fucking strange. Are you wearing your doublet like a cape? That attached to your poor fashion choices? Or did you think I can't recognize someone when they're cursed?" Yennefer was slurring slightly.

Jaskier settled back on four legs in a huff. She didn't deserve his energy at standing on two legs.

"Oh come now, it's not fun if you can't fight back. Come in."

Jaskier darted past her before she could change her mind, not sure of what her drunkenness did for his chances of not being burnt to a crisp. She didn't have her fireball actively out anymore, but he wasn't stupid enough to think she couldn't--or wouldn't--summon it in a second.

"Welcome to my humble abode. I'm thinking of making it my permanent residence so I don't have to fucking talk to anyone ever again. People are the worst, perhaps it's better that you're a raccoon now."

This was not what Jaskier wanted to hear from his main hope at becoming human again.

"I don't know why you would come to me anyways, I can't even break that stupid fucking spell the djinn put on me and Geralt," Geralt's name was snarled with what Jaskier concurred was an appropriate amount of vehemence, "how am I supposed to lift your curse?" Yennefer paused for a moment. "Wait, that's stupid. Of course I can lift your spell, I'm extremely powerful."

She pointed her finger--still perfectly manicured, Jaskier wondered if she was even capable of breaking a nail--at him and murmured an incantation. Jaskier was familiar with just enough Elder Speech to know she was slurring her words in that language too.

Nothing happened.

"Hm. I don't know if I'm just drunk or if that's a doozy."

Jaskier didn't know the word doozy was in Yennefer's vocabulary.

"Hmmmaybe tomorrow. Will you have a drink with me or will that kill you?"

Jaskier didn't know, but he very, very badly wanted a drink, so he held out his hands and let them grasp at the air. Yennefer giggled at him, which was somehow still mildly menacing. She grabbed a shot glass from somewhere on the table and poured him whatever was in her bottle. He grasped at it with both hands and tried to tip the liquid into his mouth, but his mouth was now attached to a short little snout and half the alcohol splashed out the sides of the cup as he tried to knock it back. He was vaguely aware of Yennefer continuing to laugh at him as he tried again, more carefully this time. It was unpleasant, the slow trickle of alcohol lingering on his tongue much longer than a normal shot without being able to shoot it back in one go, but was still a drink, and didn't feel like it would kill him. Yennefer clinked her bottle to his glass and poured him another.

It turned out Yennefer was chatty when she was drunk.

"Just who does he think he is? You can't think of a better wish than 'I don't want to lose her' or whatever the fuck? I thought witchers were supposed to think fast on their feet! I thought that was one of the- the mutagens or something. I don't know what fucking beast they would extract that one from but I thought it would be one of them. And just fucking bullshit like he's got a fucking child? A child of surprise that he just doesn't even try to know doesn't even try and he has the gall to say I can't take responsibility? He takes no responsibility no accountability for his actions."

Jaskier slammed his paw--he decided he must face it, he has paws now--on the side of the chair he is perched on twice in agreement. She was exactly right, Jaskier thought, thinking bitterly back to Geralt blaming on his problems on him, and wishing he could share that encounter with Yennefer so she could be angry with him instead of just alongside him.

"You understand, you travelled with him for decades. And was he appreciative? Of you changing his reputation, the reputation of all witchers, getting him warmer welcomes and freer-flowing gold?"

Jaskier shook his head emphatically.

"No, because that man has the brain of a mule and the short-sightedness of a blind molerat." Yennefer concluded. Then, suddenly, "Oh!" Her face lit up. "I just realized! So stupid of me." And snapped her fingers.

Jaskier's doublet, still hanging around his neck like a cape, became much snugger as the snap rung in the air, sleeves snaking around his arms in a perfect fit and buttons snapping closed of their own accord. For a split second Jaskier thought Yennefer had fixed his problem in a burst of drunken inspiration before he saw her doubled over with laughter and looked down to see that now his doublet was just perfectly tailored to his raccoon body. He would have perhaps been mad at her laughter, at what was clearly a joke at his expense had he the ability to craft a perfect retort to shoot back at her, but raccoonified and drunk, he could only laugh--or whatever sound passes as a laugh rom a raccoon--along with her. A raccoon in a fucking doublet--an expensive doublet too, he had spent far too much gold having it custom-made. He looked like he belonged in some mad king's menagerie.

By the end of the night, after more drinks and many more giggle, he had a miniature lute to accompany his double. Yen had tried to confuse a troubadour hat for him as well but he threw it off--he would not be an undignified raccoon, and troubadour hats were tacky even on people.

* * *

They woke up hungover in bed together, which would have been much more concerning were Jaskier not still a raccoon. Somehow hungover-disheveled Yen was more terrifying than sober Yen and drunk Yen combined. Jaskier was almost certain her glare would actually burn a hole in his fur when he woke her up trying to open a water flask. She dumped its contents out in a bowl and set it on the ground like for a dog in what Jaskier could only describe as cruel and unjust punishment and went back to bed. Jaskier joined her after realizing he could quench his thirst much faster if he swallowed his pride--Yen wasn't even watching anyways--and lapped at the bowl like a dog.

It was midafternoon before they were both up and vaguely functional again. No-longer-hungover Yen was insultingly attractive, her mussed hair somehow seeming intentional and Jaskier considered it terribly unfair for one person to only exist in the realm of terrifyingly dangerous or terrifyingly beautiful or both at the same time. Though he considered that perhaps giggly, drunk Yen trying to straighten the troubadour hat (that Jaskier had buried outside the tent while Yen was still sleeping) that kept slouching off perhaps lay more in the realm of cute, and that knowledge would have to be enough to assuage his jealousy.

The incantation Yen had tried the night before didn't work when she could enunciate properly either.

"Goodness bard, how did you get cursed by someone so powerful within not an hour of leaving Geralt? Did you fuck off to immediately fuck some high-level sorcerers wife who was waiting in the forest? Did he catch you in the act or do you just finish that fast?"

Jaskier stared at his hands for a moment, seeing Yen's smirk falter for a split second before he figured out how to flip her off.

That startled a laugh out of her, seemingly delighted at his newfound ability to snark back, even in a limited capacity.

"Come, I'll figure this out soon, but I have business to attend to elsewhere and cannot put it on hold just so you can have a human prick again."

\---

Yennefer's business was much more entertaining than it had any right to be. The noble who was paying her to fortify his estate against thieves seemed exactly as terrified of Yen as Jaskier had been when he had first met her--though Jaskier, upon realizing that, wasn't quite sure that him being less terrified of Yennefer now was the smartest course of action--and, despite his eyes constantly darting to the raccoon in a practically couture doublet constantly at Yen's side, said not a peep about her accompaniment. Jaskier had grown up around his sort, and the rigid stature of his waitstaff and carefully executed modesty of his wife and daughter brought to mind exactly the sort of noble who would have thrown a fit at so much as a pet cat touching paw in their respectable home, but this man was clearly too afraid of Yennefer to say a word. From the slight quirk of Yen's mouth--too many feet above him--he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

He'd be annoyed at how her power and presence let her command the people around her, made them bend to her without her speaking a word, but when it meant that he could scurry around the manor's grounds without so much as a peep from this increasingly purple-faced noble? It was suddenly quite funny.

\--

Jaskier and Yennefer continued to travel together, him accompanying her on far more jobs than Geralt had ever let him on--though people in want of a mage were admittedly far less likely to try and kill their potential savior's odd pet than drowners were of a witcher's. Both of them took far too much amusement from seeing people's urge to just ask just one question build up behind the high dam of fear and respect they had for Yen. Some actually managed to choke out part of a question before changing course to a different one mid-sentence at Yennefer's perfectly arched brow.

In the first weeks, they spent much of their off-time trying to figure out the curse. Yennefer made Jaskier mime what happened over and over. Unsurprisingly, without much luck. How the fuck is a raccoon supposed to mime a boy asking for a song, turning into some sort of giant magic person, and punishing him? If only I could hold a goddamn quill properly. She made him try again and again though, smirking at his constant failures to explain--and her constant failures to understand, quite frankly--despite the fact that not making progress on this meant they couldn't make progress on anything.

After a week and a half of this nightly sideshow, he had finally communicated enough pieces of the story for her to get it.

"You pissed off a fey? How stupid can you be?"

Jaskier chattered at her angrily, unable to express how stupid must you be to not get that I had no way of realizing he was a fey in anything other than angry gestures.

"Well, no simple spell with overturn the curse. It will need to be something appropriately storybook--potentially quite obscure--to get you free. I don't think finding the fey and apologizing will be of much luck to us, they're near impossible to track down and there's very little formal study on their magic. Most remedies are likely to lie hidden in layers of folktales and superstition."

Jaskier slumped dejectedly. He had always added an extra flair to all of his gestures, as a bard his emotional state needed to come across clearly and exactly as he desired to add the proper atmosphere to his songs, and he had amped that up even more now to make sure his feelings came through properly even without human form. He imagined it looked quite silly, but it was effective.

"Too bad you spent your years ploughing married women instead of finding true love to give you a kiss on that germ-ridden little maw of yours. Ah well, perhaps we can find a clear pool for you to bath in on the full moon or something else that doesn't rely on you having accomplished anything useful in human form."

Jaskier stuck his tongue out at her.

They travelled from town to town, job to job, asking about local tales and legends everywhere they went. Yen was quite bad at it at first. People give much less useful recountings of stories when they're intimidated into it. She had to soften her manner, give at least one smile per person she spoke to, Jaskier had explained by pushing his fat cheeks up with his tiny hands. It turned out that when people were less terrified of Yen, they were more likely to ask about him, more likely to croon and make faces. Jaskier was somewhat embarrassed of how much he enjoyed the attention, but it's not like anyone would ever know.

He bathed under moonlight. He pricked his fingers on spinning needles. He drank the blood of a cockerel born under a full moon and slaughtered during a lunar eclipse--that had been a gross one, and far too difficult to justify it not doing a damned thing.

Mostly though, he travelled with Yennefer. They drank in the evenings, he would sometimes try to pluck out a tune on his miniature lute that she would frequently lob insults at but would quietly hum later, she rigged up a contraption to hold his cards so they could play gwent. They bet on horse races once, that would have been fun had she not pocketed all his winning, taking one look at his victorious dance and saying "Oh, you're saying I should take the money for myself because I've so generously been housing you and trying to break your curse? How kind of you Jas, truly." Jaskier kept himself from tearing up all her dresses while she was sleeping for that simply because she had never called him Jas before that.

The truly horrible thing was that he had kind of started to like Yennefer. Some combination the time spent together and Jaskier being her literal pet and perhaps her practice smiling at villagers to get information out of them had softened her into someone less impossible to be around. Or perhaps it was that she realized that even at a tenth of her usual level of dignified and beautiful and obviously powerful she was still a hundred times that of Jaskier in human form, much less raccoon, and didn't need to expend any effort whatsoever to intimidate him to hell and back. But she was funny, and smart, and so assured in her impressive capabilities he couldn't help but adore her a little. A human hurricane who pouted just a little when she lost gwent to his greedy little hands and scrunched her nose against the light when she was hungover. The fact that she could crush a boulder with a blink of an eye somehow only endeared her to him more. It was truly not fair, but would make an excellent song when he could play properly again.

\--

Then, one day, they were lifting a curse from a family heirloom for some obscenely wealthy merchant. He seemed excessively distrustful of Yen, from his description of the curse clearly had an issue with magic and considered it a great dishonor to have to invite a sorceress, much less a sorceress accompanied by vermin, into his home. As he led them to the room with the ornate necklace, Jaskier heard Yen's voice, clear as his own thoughts, in his mind. When I start casting, mimic my hand movements exactly. Jaskier nodded beside her, knowing she would see him out of the corner of her eye, before realizing exactly what had just happened.

Yen. Can you communicate telepathically? He tried to force as much civility into his inner monologue as possible, not a skill he had practiced all that much in his life.

He heard a snickering to his right and whipped head to Yen, mouth open in shock and outrage.

You could read my mind this whole time? You made me playact that fey cursing me for ten days! 

The merchant turned and glared at them as Yen collapsed in laughter, gasping for breath. Jaskier couldn't remember ever having seen her lose her composure in front of anyone else.

"I apologize, it must be an effect of the curse," she said, still huffing with laughter. "Please, go on."

He stiffly turned back and continued walking in enraged silence, Yen snickering behind him. Jaskier followed with nothing better to do, cursing Yen in his mind the whole way. When she started to cast, gathering herself together to mutter her incantations as her magic gathered in her hands, Jaskier barely remembered to copy her movements. When he did, the merchant gasped and fell back, knocking over some clearly expensive flatware and tea sets as he flailed. Between his little raccoon hands was a purple ball of light, matching Yen's, silvery strands both going towards the cursed necklace, splitting and rejoining to make a net pressing down on the curse's aura. It looked like he was casting as much as her.

He heard the merchant crash out of the room cursing, dropping the purse that held their reward in his wake in his haste to get away from them.

Oh so that curse you can lift no problem while casting illusions at the same time and I confound you.

Shut up, it's not like the necklace pissed off a millennia-old magical creature.

When they- she was done she snatched the purse off the ground and portalled them back to their very nice inn room without even an attempt at bidding farewell to her employer.

"In my defense, it was very funny."

Yes I could see quite well that you enjoyed yourself. Jaskier thought haughtily. But he knew he wouldn't stay mad. The tragic flaw in his personality, that one led him to follow the witcher around for two decades despite him being--by all accounts and for all purposes--quite a rude and unpleasant bastard most of the time, was that he couldn't help but forgive these prickly, obscenely powerful people for all their own flaws for the chance to see that crack of a smile, that sliver of humanity that so few others saw. That so few others tried to see.

Yen was looking at him fondly, and Jaskier realized with chagrin that he had already given himself away.

Well, at least now I can appropriately insult you back and know that you'll hear it. I know you've been so withering without my diamond wit to sharpen the blade of your tongue against. 

"Diamond is certainly overstating it, though I'll take a blade for myself, thank you."

So I think it's worth talking about that I beat you at gwent at least half the time despite the fact that you can read my mind and therefore see my cards and strategy.

"How do you know I didn't let you win?"

Because you're not that nice. And I'm pretty sure you're blushing a little right now.

"Fuck off, Jas."

\--

They decide--together, this time--to circle closer to the mountain where Jaskier had been cursed in the first place. Their folk tales were marginally more likely to contain accurate curse-lifting measures, and there was a slim chance they could attempt to make amends with the fey who had cursed Jaskier in the first place. They had been in the town at the base of the mountain where the dragon hunt had kicked off for two days and they had yet to hear a solution that wasn't one they had already tried, or true love's kiss. Perhaps Yen had been a little right in that Jaskier could have pursued at least one or two unattached maidens for situations such as these. Or perhaps he should have brought more charm to his courting of Téa and Véa, they would have been nearby, though he was pretty sure they were courting each other, and quite possibly the gold dragon as well.

Jaskier was starting to think that they would never turn him back to human and he would have to resign himself to making a killing as a lute-playing bard in a sideshow. Perhaps he could teach himself to sing wordlessly to accompany himself. He and Yen could still travel together and perhaps she could introduce him to other sorceresses who could read his mind--she and Geralt had always had pleasant things to say about one Triss Merigold and Jaskier would be thrilled to make her acquaintance.

It was evening, and he and Yen were playing a dice game where she didn't have an unfair advantage of mindreading and he didn't have an unfair advantage of just being much better at gwent than her. Yen had wrestled him out of his doublet to rinse him in the bath after she was done and he smelled of lilac and gooseberries, fur drying slowly all puffed up from her briskly toweling him off. He was just about to lose terribly to Yen when Geralt burst into the room.

"Yen, I know you don't want to see me but Jaskier is missing. No one has seen him for months. I found his lute tucked underneath a tree root on the mountain but the scent trail is too old for me to follow. I need your help, then I swear I will leave you be."

Yennefer stared at him. Jaskier stared at him. Geralt's gaze didn't leave Yen's for a long, silent moment before sliding over to Jaskier.

"Is that a raccoon."

Yen immediately drew herself up to a level of regality and imperiousness Jaskier hadn't seen her at in a while. "Why yes, Geralt, I decided I needed a little bit of companionship from a creature who wouldn't try to compromise my own free will. Do you really think you have any right to question my choice of- of pet?"

Jaskier felt Yennefer's mind press against his, not bothering to transmit any thought in particular, just her amusement at their inside joke.

"You're- you're right. I'm sorry." Geralt gritted out. Jaskier did his best to snicker in his mind, for Yennefer's benefit. "That's not the point. I need your help tracking Jaskier. I need to make sure he's safe."

Yennefer strolled over to a side table to open a new bottle of wine and pour a glass for herself, then returned to pour one for Jaskier, pointedly not offering any to Geralt as she breezily said, "If no one's seen hide nor hair of him for months, much less heard a peep from his voice--which carries, I might add--"

You know, that's a boon in the barding profession. Top of my class at Oxenfurt for my projection. 

Yen barely stifled a snort before continuing. "He's likely dead. Probably pissed off the wrong person, or thing, and got himself killed. Did you know that there are a not insignificant number of fey encounters in this area? Can't imagine our bard would come out of that unscathed."

Our? Jaskier teased. Yennefer didn't let a single thought slip into his mind in response.

"Please, Yen, I have to know. If he died because I wasn't with him because I… Because I sent him away…"

"Oh, am I not the only one you graced with spiteful comments that were completely uncalled for that day?" Yennefer knew damn well what Geralt had said. When Jaskier had told her she had called Geralt a little bitch and pulled out her nicest bottle of wine, that Jaskier was pretty sure she had just stolen from one of their rude contractor's cellar. Luckily raccoon him still had the palate to appreciate it.

Geralt grit his teeth. "Yen. I am sorry. I didn't want to lose you so I reacted poorly, even though it was my fault I was losing you in the first place. I should have been more careful with my wish. And I shouldn't have taken it out on Jaskier. And he shouldn't die and never have his body even found, even buried, because I was an idiot."

"Well, now that you've apologized so nicely I suppose I can take time out of my very busy schedule to help you. Where did you say you found his lute exactly? Do you have it on you?"

"Yes." Geralt passed the lute to Yen, who made a big show of examining it as Geralt stared at her. She glanced up at him to glare and he immediately turned his head to survey the room. Jaskier watched his gaze avoid Yen entirely, taking in everything until it locked on to the shrunken doublet, thrown over a chair carelessly. "Yen. Is that Jaskier's doublet." He gritted out, already striding over to sniff at it. "The scent is fresh, but different from how I remember. What did you do."

"Nothing, I simply wanted a whimsical little outfit for my animal companion and you must admit the bard's fashion sense is certainly a good inspiration for whimsy."

I'm done, Yen. It's fine. You can tell him. Maybe witchers know more about lifting fey curses.

She turned to him. "Are you sure?"

Geralt's confused face followed Yen's direction to Jaskier, and promptly strode over and grabbed him, burying his nose in his fur an inhaling deeply.

Yen! Yen I am being manhandled! Jaskier yelped, suddenly much farther from the ground than he had gotten accustomed to being.

"It's him. It smells like you but it's him. How long has he been like this?"

Geralt still wasn't putting Jaskier down, holding him underneath his shoulders as Jaskier squirmed.

Yen managed to look condescending for about half a second before dissolving into laughter at the sight of the very disgruntled, very angry, and very relieved witcher holding Jaskier, currently a very fluffy post-bath raccoon, like a particularly uncooperative baby that was liable to spit up on anyone who got too close. Jaskier was suddenly reminded of the fact that they were both several cups deep.

"Yen."

"Ever since the dragon hunt. Some fey cursed him not an hour after he left for refusing to play a song for him and he's been this way since. We've tried every folk remedy short of true love's kiss, every incantation I know of, and nothing works. He looks better in the doublet as a raccoon though, so maybe it's for the best."

Geralt set Jaskier down and rolled his shoulders back, seeming to harden himself again after his probably grueling seven minutes of barely-visible emotion. "So we find this fey and get it to lift the curse."

"Yes, Geralt, because it's so incredibly easy to orchestrate encounters with fey, much less specific ones." Yennefer stepped closer to Jaskier to smooth his fur where it had been ruffled by Geralt's grasp.

"We don't have any other options, we need to at least try."

"Jaskier?" Geralt seemed startled, and Jaskier nodded at Yen before realizing that Geralt looked surprised because Yen had just asked for his opinion. He wished he could smirk at Geralt. See? We have lives outside of you, you don't hog us all to yourself to pick up and set down as you choose. She likes me. We're friends.

Yennefer was smiling. He knew she had heard. He knew she wouldn't say or think a word back, but she was smiling. "Alright then. We can set off in the morning. In the mean time, Geralt, do you know how to play yahtzee? I believe it's Korviri."

\--

They drank well into the night, trying to adapt drinking games that Jaskier could still play. Jaskier plucked out a new tune on his miniature lute, Geralt drunk enough to betray his admiration that Jaskier was still composing as a raccoon, Yen humming along, already familiar with it. It got later and later and Yen didn't kick Geralt out, seeming to prefer making jokes with Jaskier at his expense, teasing him when he couldn't read Jaskier's mind to know exactly what he had said to make Yen laugh like that. Eventually, it couldn't have been long before dawn, Yen dragged Jaskier with her as she flopped onto the bed, loudly announcing that if she wasn't asleep within fifteen minutes she would burn the entire inn to the ground. Geralt hovered awkwardly by the door. Yen opened one eye at him accusingly.

"What, you think I won't be able to control myself is I share a bed with you? The innkeep's surely gone to sleep by now. Get in." Yen continued to tease Geralt as he settled on the other side of the bed. "I don't need you any more. I have the bard now." She pulled Jaskier closer to her chest and, not breaking her gaze from at Geralt's unreadable stare, pressed a kiss to his head.

And then Jaskier was naked in bed and very, very human with the two most intimidating people he knew. It was silent for far too long before Jaskier squeaked out, "So. Um. I guess we don't need to find that fey any more. Good thing too, because I will probably be very hungover tomorrow and probably won't feel up to much fairy hunting."

"Fey are different from fairies." Geralt responded robotically, still a reflex to correct Jaskier after so many months apart. "Do you- are you and Yen…"

"Um, no, I don't- I mean I don't think so?" Jaskier turned his head to look at Yen, terribly aware of the fact that his dick was fully in open air and there was not a set of pants that would fit him anywhere nearby.

"I don't know, I've never been in any sort of love that hasn't been influenced by a djinn. How should I know?" Yen hissed back.

"I mean I've been in love. Kind of. I think. I don't think that's what this is I think I just love you a little. I think you're my friend."

"We're friends," Yennefer said, clearly not convinced.

Jaskier shoved at her, tipping her half off the bed. "We've spent every day together working and drinking and playing cards for the past six months, of course we're friends. Even if you're a terrible witch who doesn't tell me she can read my mind for the first few months."

"You didn't tell him you could read his mind?" Geralt asked. Jaskier didn't know why that would be a surprise, but he supposed he could absolve Geralt of his normal standard for emotional intelligence. He had probably tired himself out admitting he was wrong about the mountain. Or, perhaps Geralt just wanted back in on the conversation. "And you're friends now."

"Why yes, yes we are friends." Yennefer said, wrapping her arm around Jaskier's waist again and drawing him to her as he hauled the bedsheets up to cover himself. "Why? Are you jealous? You yell at everyone you know on the mountain and they make friends without you?"

"Hm." Geralt frowned.

"He did apologize, Yen."

Somehow that made Geralt's frown even deeper.

"Perhaps we can let you in on our friendship as well, but you must know that our standards of companionship are much higher than what you had set previously."

"You want me to be, what, more raccoon-like to suit your taste?"

Jaskier slapped his arm, still snuggled against Yen. "You be nice, I'll have you know raccoon Jaskier was a hell of a lot nicer to be around than witcher Geralt and that is a shame upon you."

"It's yet to be seen whether human Jaskier can live up to raccoon Jaskier's standards." Yennefer mumbled into his shoulder. It was her turn to get a slap on the arm. She gasped. "You would hit a lady?"  
"Oh, funny, I don't see any ladies here. Perhaps my vision was impaired by the curse."

"Your vision will be impaired by a different curse if you don't shut your mouth."

Geralt was staring at them again. Jaskier supposed the whole half-spooning thing kind of undercut the normal vitriolic banter.

"Come here you ass, don't just lay on the other side of the bed like a cuckold."

"I am not a cuckold." Geralt gritted out, still inching closer until Jaskier could feel his warmth on his other side.

"Only now that you've joined us."

"And so late to the party as well," Yennefer added. "You have quite some catching up to do. Tell me, how's your gwent deck?"

"If it's good you can play me, if it's bad you can play Yennefer."

Yennefer zapped his chest with a flashy bolt of lightning for what amounted to a static shock as Geralt said. "Yennefer is bad at gwent?"

Jaskeir grinned at him, his best friend of two decades as he was pressed between him and his best friend of six months, who loved him, and suspected that Geralt could have broken the curse just as easily as Yen had as he yawned and replied, "You have quite a lot of catching up to do. We'll get started tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by hobbart art's raccoonskier art esp the one with yen (obvs) https://hobbart-art.tumblr.com/post/642110680719310848/hobbart-art-the-long-await-sequel-while-jaskier


End file.
